I Am Hell’s Burning Wreckage

I actually drove somewhere today. Speeding down Kipling on the way back home, I catch a glimpse of red. I decide that the traffic signal by the grocery strip mall isn’t something I need to stop for. The front end of my ancient Nissan barely clears the crosswalk before it makes 45 mph contact with something large. Looking up, after what seems like an eternity, and blinking the red sticky liquid from my eyes, I think I see a police car through the haze. The cruiser looks like it was hit by a meteor. As the paramedics cut me from my burning vehicle, I think that maybe I should have put $12 in the tank, instead of a superstitiously doomed $13. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in the ER.

What you just read didn’t actually happen. You might have been clued in by the fact that I couldn’t blog from my theoretical hospital bed. But, here’s what did happen. I saw the light. I stopped in time. The first car to cross the intersection to my left was a Sheriff’s vehicle. No accident. No burning wreckage. Everyone’s safe. But, I did put the 13 bucks daddy left me this morning into the gas tank. Good thing that number’s never been an unlucky one for me.

These are the kinds of visions I’ve been having. They sometimes trigger a panic attack. It’s good that I’ve learned to control “panic mode” to a certain degree. Have you ever seen any of the Final Destination movies? It’s like looking for signs. And while it’s unlikely that I’ll ever find myself in an elevator with a perverted old man holding a box of prosthetic arms, I sometimes feel like I’m getting ½ of a premonition. Just promise me that if I die, you’ll go into my apartment and clean out all the porn and drug paraphanellia before my mom sees it.

They started after my “situation” with the ex and haven’t quit or subsided in the almost two years they’ve been going on. They don’t haunt me strictly in motor vehicles either. Sometimes I’ll see jagged glass in the street and envision the child whizzing around on his scooter crashes just shy of the glittery debris. But then, his momentum slides him across the gravel like a human hunk of cheese and a piece of broken beer bottle flies up and takes out his eye; little flecks of flesh sticking to the rocky terrain. Granted, I do have a sick mind and sometimes imagine these things of my own free and somewhat vindictive will. Sometimes I hope that the asshole and his Beamer that just cut me off will careen into the embankment and Mr. Playgirl model will brake his nose beyond all cosmetic reconstruction on the steering wheel. Ha ha! That sort of thing (and a liberal middle finger) keeps down my road rage. But, that’s completely different from these “visions”.

Should I even label my anxious hypocondria as “visions”? As far as I know, they don’t ever come to pass. I’ve had ones that do, but those almost always come to me in my sleep. Once, I experienced a curious blending of the two. I was sitting facing upward on a hill. The region was in the midst of a snowstorm and, on that day, it took me 3 hours to get to work, whereas it was usually a 45 minute drive. Okay, so I’m sitting in traffic on an icy uphill slope. I thought to myself, “What if the lady in the Volvo in front of me suddenly lost traction on the ice and started sliding in reverse towards me?” Then, not two seconds later, that very same thing happened. Surprise, surprise.

What’s the point of this post, after all? I’m not trying to claim that I’m clairvoyant. I’m not trying to advertise the Final Destination series. I’m not intentionally trying to give the impression that I’m looney, although I think that’s probably apparent after a few reads. Nope. None of the above apply here. I guess I’m just babbling like always. Maybe this is just another creative writing exercise. But, if you see me flinch and go vacant for a few seconds, you’ll know that I sense impending disaster.

That said, I’m of f to the shooting range to blast some paper into oblivion. Who says paranoia and guns are a bad combination? Actually, who says that vegitarians are non-violent?!